After ten years of running the front counter, I have opinions about bags. Strong ones. Here is exactly what I order at Panadería Guayaquil, why, and what I learned the hard way about a sandwich and a wet brown bag.
The day a meatball sub ruined a regular's day
Years ago, when I first opened, I ordered the cheapest brown paper bags I could find. They were lovely. They folded crisp. They stamped beautifully with our logo. They also, it turned out, had the structural integrity of wet newsprint.
One Tuesday lunch I sold a meatball sandwich to one of my regulars — a contractor who works on the buildings around the BQE. He took it, walked out, and re-entered the bakery thirty seconds later wearing tomato sauce and a look of grim disappointment. The bottom of the bag had given way. The sandwich was on the sidewalk.
I gave him another sandwich, and another bag (the same bag, because that's all I had). I also called my supplier and changed my entire bag order the next morning.
What I order now
This is the inventory of my bag drawer, in case it helps anyone else avoid sidewalk meatballs:
- Heavy-duty paper bags with a wax interior for sandwiches, hot pastries and anything with butter or oil. Yes they cost more. Yes they are worth it. The first time a customer says “wow that is a serious bag” you will smile.
- Plain kraft bags in two sizes for cookies, scones, single loaves — the dry stuff. They are pretty, they hold up, and they print well if you ever want a stamp.
- Twisted-handle shopping bags in a few sizes for “I need to bring six things home from the bakery” orders. The handle matters. I tried tape handles. Customers complained. I switched. Customers stopped complaining.
- Clear poly bread bags for sliced sandwich bread. People want to see the bread. I do too.
The bag question is really a customer-experience question
I used to think bags were a back-of-house line item. I was wrong. Your bag is the last thing the customer touches before they walk out. It is also, increasingly, the thing they post on Instagram. If your bag is sad, your bakery looks sad. If your bag is solid and pretty, your bakery looks solid and pretty.
So my advice, take it or leave it: spend the extra fifteen cents per bag for the heavier paper. Tell whoever is taking your supply call (in my case, Popina) what you actually use bags for — sandwiches versus cookies versus full grocery hauls — and let them spec it. Do not buy on price alone, ever.
Until next time. Stay dry. Tip your baker.